Reflections
by x. Gimme more
Summary: He knew absolutely everything


**Title:** Reflections  
**Characters/Pairings:** Shigeru/Kasumi  
**Length:** 819 words  
**Rating:** 16+  
**Warnings:** Slight mentions of sexual content  
**Summary:** He knew absolutely everything.

I knew everything about her.

That was really saying something. Considering that she isn't as predictable as other women. She doesn't always wear that mask, covering up so much like other girls do. She doesn't dress to impress me and there are only a few special occasions on which she wears her hair just the way I like it. In fact, there are only a few occasions on where I can see her. I mean _really_ see her.

I wonder when I started noticing everything.

Like how she likes to sing when no one is around and how she longs to grow her hair out, but it's too much trouble to handle. Her favorite color is deep blue, she once told me. Not because it's a beautiful color in general, but merely because it gives her a warm, airy feeling. Like when she's performing in one of her infamous water ballets. She loves swimming more then anything else, too.

She hates chocolate ice cream. She prefers vanilla and strawberry. I also noticed that the only time she chomps it down is either when I surprise her with a cone or when she's extremely pissed off, ranting about how Satoshi can't take a joke or how he tells her _she_ can't take a joke. In the end, she always ends up laughing about it and grins at me, thanking me quietly for listening to her. I don't think she knows that even when she babbles and I pretend to be annoyed by it, whatever she spouts is the most important thing to me. That might be why I kicked Satoshi's ass more then I had ever originally planned.

On rainy days, she's always slightly depressed. Something or other to do with her mother and father. I never pried much on it until she was ready to talk about it. She likes to cling to my left arm when we go shopping. Always the left arm, never the right. Her ears are pierced, but she never wears earrings unless I take her to a really divine-looking restaurant. She'll never eat sea food, mutters something or other about it being horrid because she's a water type trainer.

She likes when I wrap my arms around her waist and coo softly into her ear. It makes her squirm and sometimes I can almost feel the way she shudders as I run my hands across her, mapping her with extreme care as if she's some porcelain doll. At night, when we're getting ready for bed she always asks me if I love her. When I answer the obvious answer, she always sighs contently and then nibbles my lips before drifting off.

When we make love, she likes being to be on top. She always wants to please me first, to see my face glow with pure delight as she works her torturous magic on me. She even told me I was her first and that she wouldn't have it any other way. And when she finds sweet release, she always cries my name softly, running her delicate fingers through my hair. Then she'll trail hot kisses down from my lips to my chin, pause and then do it over before her exhausted mind forces her to sleep. I never get tired of it, either.

When we go out, she always makes me wait exactly five minutes before she stumbles out the door, complaining that her sisters wouldn't let her out the door without prepping her up. She likes to smile sweetly at me and then punch my shoulder when I make a perverted joke. It's been a while since she actually hit me.

I also know that when I had proposed to her on her nineteenth birthday that it wasn't the first time she cried to me. I knew that she cried because of thunderstorms and on her parents anniversary all alone. In all, it was only a few times I saw her vulnerable, clinging to me as some kind of life source. I think the first time I saw her cry was when I really fell in love with her. Sure, plenty of girls had cried to me, but when she did it really meant something.

I know tonight, when I knock on the Gym door with the sunflowers in my hands that she will latch onto me and cry her eyes out once more, sniffling and repeating that I remembered our anniversary. Then we'll have yet another wonderful night of passion and we'll argue on what we want to name him or her. After all, in about six months I'll have my own child in my hands.

I knew everything about her and I'm still learning.

Every day is a new surprise sometimes, and I wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
